you gotta laugh a little, until the clouds roll by
by hopelessromantic0707
Summary: The Old Haunt has no stage- she has a feeling that, after tonight, Castle's hiring a contractor to build one won't even be up for discussion- so she's standing on a table; her dress feels too short and her heels are suddenly far too high.


Title: you gotta laugh a little...until the clouds roll by a little (that's the story of love)

Spoilers: None

Disclaimer: Don't own Castle, no matter how much I love it. Beaches and 'The Glory of Love' aren't mine either.

Rating: G

Summary: The Old Haunt has no stage (she has a feeling that, after tonight, Castle's hiring a contractor to build one won't even be up for discussion), so she's standing on a table; her dress feels too short and her heels are suddenly far too high.

Author's Note: This is kind of random, but I still like the way it came out. I was watching _Beaches_ for the first time the other night and 'The Glory of Love' really stuck with me. That's the song used in this story, by the way. If you can't tell, I think Beckett (Stana) needs to sing more. LJ cut isn't working; I'll fix it tomorrow. Enjoy!

* * *

She's not entirely sure this is the brightest idea ever; in fact, there's a little voice in the back of her head that's screaming at her to walk out the door, hail a cab, and not think about anything at all for twenty minutes, until she's safely within the four walls of her apartment.

Her eyes dart to the heavy wood paneling of The Old Haunt's front door, then back to Lanie, standing at her side, watching her with an expectant smirk.

"Oh, don't even _think _about making a run for it, girl. You opened your mouth, now you gotta sing for your supper."

The daggers she's currently directing at her best friend have no effect whatsoever, as her companion is doubled over with laughter, tears running down her cheeks, at the hilarity of her pun.

"Lanie!" The name comes out as a hiss more than anything else; whispering without moving one's lips is not easy. The volume of her voice increases as her words become more urgent. "I didn't think he'd actually make me do it. I was drunk; I have no social filter when I'm drunk. I say horrendous things. _He knows that!_"

"Honey, if I may say one thing?" This is said with a finger pointed toward the celing, because, clearly, the fact that it's only one needs emphasis (underlining? Holy crap. Castle has invaded her brain. But not in a creepy Natalie Rhodes-the-bodysnatcher way. In a way that sends a wave of warmth through her entire body, just thinking about it).

With a shake of her head that sends her hair flying in her eyes, she clears her thoughts as best she can, attempting to keep them within 'the bubble'. If 'the bubble' bursts right now, she thinks she'll turn into a squealing, 14-year-old, hormonal mess; and that is something that no one should be subjected to. Damn Castle and his immaturity; she's almost certain it's contagious.

She nods at Lanie, hoping her eyes say everything she's dying to.

The ME smiles knowingly, but only replies, "There is no past tense here. You _are _drunk. As am I. Embrace it."

She feels a smile make its way across her face and doesn't bother hiding it. Hugging Lanie briefly around the shoulders, she heads in Castle's direction to face the music. (Tonight's the night for stupid puns.)

"No need to look like you're about to face the firing squad, my dear."

Claiming a barstool in front of him (he owns the place, of course he bartends. Castle would never pass that up), she asks, "How are you so sure that's not exactly what I'll be doing, Richie Rich?"

He grimaces at the nickname, shrugs. "It's my bar. I can clear the whole place in five minutes if the need becomes apparent." There's a quick glance toward the fire extinguisher hanging on the back wall which causes her to burst into laughter.

"What?"

The question only makes her laugh harder, because he doesn't seem to understand that the patrons of The Package Store more than likely enjoyed being foamed; a repeat performance with at least 150 plowed Manhattanites would not be a pleasant experience.

"You and your grandiose ideas, Writer Man." A sigh escapes her lips.

"You really don't have to do this, you know."

She shoots him a horrifed look, eyes wide, mouth making a small circle.

"That would mean you win! You are so not winning this one."

Her barstool tilts back slightly as she stands, grabbing a handful of green m&ms (the only color she eats; Castle has countless theories as to why, which he will gladly share with anyone who chooses to indulge him), rests her elbows on the wooden partition separating them, and whispers against his ear, "After this, you'll be putty in my hands for a good three days; that's worth a little stagefright."

* * *

The Old Haunt has no stage (she has a feeling that, after tonight, Castle's hiring a contractor to build one won't even be up for discussion), so she's standing on a table; her dress feels too short and her heels are suddenly far too high.

"Um, I don't really know how to explain what's about to happen," she starts, voice shaking a bit (she decides to pretend she's in a room full of suspects and see where that gets her), "except to say it's entirely Richard Castle's fault."

Her index finger flips toward the back of the room, where she knows his eyes are locked on her. "And sorry if this sucks." A one-sided, wry smile flits across her lips before she starts to sing.

"You gotta give a little, take a little, and let your poor heart break a little. That's the story of, that's the glory of, love."

She hasn't sung this song since the week before her mother died, at an open mic night in some dive four blocks from NYU.

The lyrics seem to carry more meaning now, so many years later, after all that's happened.

"You gotta laugh a little, cry a little, until the clouds roll by a little..."

Now she knows that love isn't the only thing that's being described; it's life as well. Life is full of ups and downs, highlights and disappointments, joys and sorrows; she can't control it, she can only survive and try to enjoy the ride.

"You gotta win a little, lose a little, and always have the blues a little...my mama told me that's the glory of love."

She ends, lets the last note hang in the air above her head for a few seconds. The room erupts in thunderous applause; most of the 12th precinct is present, and cops can be downright explosive when they want to be.

Holding out the skirt of her dress in a mock curtsy, she twirls her loose, curled hair around her finger for a few seconds before climbing down from the table, heels clacking as they strike the floor.

The next thing she knows, a group of people has surrounded her on all sides (Esposito and Lanie; Ryan and Jenny; Montgomery and his wife), clapping her on the back, asking why she's kept her talent a secret from them ('Piano Man' doesn't count; has nothing on what they've just witnessed).

"I had no idea you were a _Beaches _fan, Kate," she hears against her hair.

Turning, she finds Castle standing behind her. "One of my mom's favorites. Grew up with it."

He nods, holds up a hand. "No need to justify."

Her mouth opens, about to respond, but he puts his fingers to her lips to stop her.

"Your secret's safe with me." There's a beat, and then he's asking if she wants to go somewhere.

"Don't you have to close?" He raises his eyebrows at her and waits. "Oh, right. It's your bar."

* * *

They spend the entire night discovering the hidden reaches of Manhattan; places that belong only to them (at least that's what it feels like).

When the sun rises above the city, they find a Starbucks (double-shot caramel macchiato for her, black coffee for him) and grab the first taxi they come across.

It only takes Castle a minute to give the driver his address, but her eyelids are getting heavy and she can tell her head's against his shoulder, can feel the fabric of his shirt brushing her cheek (or is it the other way around?).

As she drifts off completely, she has one thought: They're still Castle and Beckett, will always be, until they're forced to stop; the difference now is, once they're done being Castle and Beckett, they'll still have Rick and Kate to fall back on.


End file.
